It was supposed to be a gladiatorial battle that would set the stage for the
general election. Instead we got a small joust designed to entertain only
those obsessed with Westminster, says Dina Rickman, who feels for
Farage's wife

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Photo: Alex Benwell

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Nick Clegg, right, and Nigel Farage during the debate over Britain's future in the European UnionPhoto: Ian West

Ding! Round one in the most pointless political clash of the year is over. Nick Clegg, a man I cannot look at without thinking of the word ‘beige’ has squared up to Nigel Farage, the self-styled naughty uncle of British politics to debate Britain’s membership of the European Union – live.

Sowho won? The majority of the electorate probably don’t care as they were doing anything other than watching two men who will never be Prime Minister indulge in an hour-long pissing contest.

The highlight was when Farage – who let’s remember, has positioned himself as firmly anti-establishment – was challenged over the fact that he uses public money to employ his wife Kirsten as an assistant. Farage muttered something about needing staff when he gets home at midnight, making the poor woman sound more like a butler than a life partner.

He also let the world know what he thought of her "very modest" £20,000 per year salary.

If there was one thing I learned from the debate, it was to feel sorry for Kirsten Farage. Before last night she was primarily famous for being German, and only mentioned in the press when her husband was accused philandering. That was bad enough.

Now she's forever etched in my mind as Nigel Farage's enabler.

Come to think of it, I don't envy any of the main politician's wives: do you? Being trotted out in the media spotlight to open and close key speeches, bake (well, in America, anyway) and generally 'look and act the part' is enough to drive any woman insane. They will be forever remembered through the actions and words of their husbands - and in Kirsten's case, that's especially painful.

I suppose we should take comfort in the fact that neither Farage nor Clegg brought their wives to last night's debate to 'display' to the audience their showpony professional partners. (We can only hope David Cameron and Ed Miliband will exhibit the same restraint ahead of this year's conferences; hmm, unlikely).

It’s a pity, however,Farage wasn’t asked about allegationshe’d employed his former mistress to help out with his MEP duties too (if true, it would be very European of him), although it might have saved poor Kirsten a few more blushes.

Pre-match excitement

Admittedly, before Clegg and Farage actually took to the stage, it was hard not to get caught up in the pre-match excitement. Forget Mohammed Ali versus George Foreman. Forget Richard Nixon versus John F Kennedy. This was Nick versus Nigel – this was big.

Clegg, in challenging Farage to a showdown had laid down the gauntlet. It was half debate, half duel. It would be live tweeted and live streamed, with a ‘worm’ designed to measure Twitter sentiment and a spin room to sway journalists. In other words, this was the willy-waving competition to end all other willy-waving competitions, with the electoral fortunes of both the Liberal Democrats and UKIP in the European elections at stake. There was more testosterone in the air than in an Eton locker room. Yes, it would be a little camp and a little odd – but it would be worth watching. Wouldn’t it?

With 15 minutes to go, LBC presenter Iain Dale talked up Clegg's temper, as you would with a prized fighter in the moments before a boxing match. The Deputy Prime Minister can – apparently – get a little tetchy. We also learnt Farage had been preparing in the pub, which could explain why his upper lip got so sweaty under the studio lights later on.

Then it came to the debate itself. Clegg gulped water and shoved his hand in his pocket, Farage sweated and rolled his eyes. I’m not sure who made the most salient political points. Both men talked over each other and most of the facts were entirely eclipsed by hyperbole. When Clegg and Farage weren’t threatening doom and gloom if we either stayed in or left in the EU, they were firing facts at each other. At one stage, we would lose three million jobs if we left Europe. Then Europe was costing us £55 million a day. This was hardly thriller in manilla.

Clegg, meanwhile, successfully swerved a question about tuition fees and got the best soundbite of the hour when he declared: “I want us to be part of Great Britain, not little England.”

'A small joust'

With 10 minutes to go, I texted a few friends to see if they were watching. My chum Helen had gone to the pub instead because “Clegg and Farage both have the charisma of wet ham”. No one else had even realised it was on. And that’s the thing – Clegg versus Farage was billed as a gladiatorial battle, a macho square off which would set the stage for next year’s general election – alienating plenty of people as it went along. Instead we got a pointless, small joust designed to entertain those obsessed with the Westminster village as we edge closer and closer to May 2015.

Let's remember these are two white, upper middle class men in their late 40s shouting about what could be the world's least sexy issue – the EU. We'll see what round two has in store, but you can forgive young women for being turned off.